


not quite free

by justoneofthegays



Series: trans!jisung minsung vents [1]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, References to Depression, Trans Male Character, but vv cute, have fun I guess, lotsa angst, okay honestly this is like all my experiences so like oops, so like, trans jisung, y'all this is straight up a vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 02:48:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15233685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justoneofthegays/pseuds/justoneofthegays
Summary: His entire life was a hilarious, unfortunate joke for someone else to laugh at.orjisung is dysphoric and minho helps him out





	not quite free

**Author's Note:**

> heyo so this is straight up a vent fic like i was feeling shitty like all week so if you wanna know shit that i've gone through like go ahead. this is also like completely not betad so if its terrible im sorry lmao. thankfully i feel better (mostly) after writing this so don't worry about me.
> 
> enjoy some pretty cute minsung!

Some mornings were pleasant: some mornings you wake up and think “today I’m going to do something great.” Some mornings you wake up and you feel refreshed and ready to take on whatever comes at you. Some mornings you feel unstoppable.

 

This was  _ not  _ one of those mornings.

 

Jisung woke up this morning feeling heavy. His face was heavy, his chest was heavy, his body was heavy. There was a tight, painful feeling in his stomach, and the t-shirt he had worn to bed was damp with sweat.  _ Fucking summer,  _ Jisung thought, he never really liked summer. He sat up and picked up his phone, catching a glimpse of his reflection in the screen before it lit up to show him the time.

 

“Gross,” he mumbled under his breath. He hated feeling like this. He  _ hated  _ feeling like this. He hated when he saw his reflection and hated what he saw. Mind you, he usually hated what he saw, but it was much less than this. He put his phone down and placed his hands on his face. The pain in his gut was growing more present by the second. He didn’t want to get out of bed. Nothing would make him want to get out of bed.

 

“Jisungie? Are you awake?” Okay, maybe one thing would make him want to get out of bed. Minho was already in the kitchen probably making a waffle for breakfast.

 

“Yes,” Jisung called out of the room, trying his best not to sound completely miserable, whilst also ignoring how high his voice sounded. Too high, too feminine, he hated that word so much. At this point, this was one of the mornings when Jisung hated everything. His voice, his face, his body-dammit his fucking  _ body.  _ Jisung felt trapped, every single day, trapped, with no means of escaping without thousands of dollars and about two or three years of sitting on wait lists. His entire life was a hilarious, unfortunate joke for someone else to laugh at. All his life he felt like he was on the outside, never making true connections, never having a real friend group, never feeling like he truly fit in. He didn’t. But at the time his name was different. People saw him as ‘she.’ He was forced to wear dresses. He wore his hair long. He never wanted to wear dresses, he hated his name, he hated his long hair, and he never truly understood why he always felt like he was on the outside. He never understood why he felt wrong.

 

First year of middle school he figured it out. He spent the first half of that year insanely depressed, dragging himself through each day, going to sleep not wanting to wake up, but then waking up and wanting to go right back to sleep again. At this point his hair was shorter, finally the length he liked, but he still felt wrong. People always called his hair length, “mature,” and “sophisticated,” and “feminine.” Has he expressed how much he hates that word? Near the middle of the year he realized he was trans, or, rather, accepted the fact. He always would theorize that as soon as he learned what transgender was, he identified with it, but he never truly accepted it, resulting in years and years of suppression and pushing himself further away from everyone else. When he realized it, everything clicked, everything made sense. He knew how to make himself less depressed. He needed to tell people. He needed to stop being called “she,” and fast, or he’d reach a breaking point.

 

That was the year he’d met Minho. Minho was a year older than him. Minho had helped him through working up the courage to tell his parents. Minho helped him through the entire summer that it took for his parents to agree to call him by a different name. Minho helped him enjoy being alive again. Though Minho helped him stay strong, he didn’t quite understand Jisung’s situation. Every now and then he’d make an insensitive joke and Jisung would need to put him in his place but that was really it. They stayed best friends until Minho was a junior, and Jisung was a sophomore. That was the year they started dating. Jisung was constantly worried about how Minho saw him, but he never failed to mention how much he loved Jisung for who he was; for the  _ guy  _ he was.

 

That now takes us to the present, Minho is a senior, Jisung is a junior. Jisung is staying at Minho’s house for the weekend while his parents are out of town (“No funny business okay?” Minho’s mom had said. “Oh Mrs. Lee there’s going to be tons of funny business,” Jisung deadpanned. “....Right, we’ll see you boys on Tuesday!”). Minho hates being alone.

 

It’s Saturday. A day where they can do whatever they want. A day filled with opportunities. But no. Of course not.

 

“Jisung do you want some tea?” Minho calls from the kitchen once again.

 

Jisung doesn’t answer. He doesn’t want to speak. He feels too heavy to open his mouth, it’d feel almost like a chore. He knows he should, but he can’t quite find the energy to do it.

 

“Sungie?”

 

He still doesn’t speak.

 

“Did you fall asleep again?”

 

Jisung sits up and crosses his arms over his chest, he feels like everything is so noticeable today. He hears Minho’s footsteps come down the hallway. Jisung sees the outline of his body in his periphery.

 

“You okay?”

 

Jisung shrugs.

 

“What’s up?” Minho pads over to the bed, sits down next to him, and places a hand on his back.

 

Jisung shrugs again, leaning his head onto Minho’s chest.

 

“Don’t want to talk huh?”

 

Jisung shakes his head.

 

“It’s that fucking body again isn’t it? That fucking body that makes my boyfriend upset?”

 

Jisung fights a smile and nods.

 

“You want me to grab you a hoodie? I can turn on the air conditioning really high.”

 

Jisung looks at his boyfriend apologetically, then nods once more.

 

“Okay, I’ll be right back.”

 

What did Jisung do to deserve him? He was willing to give up his own comfort for Jisung. He never thought he’d find someone like that in a million years. Jisung could hear the air conditioners in the other rooms start to turn on, and his smile grows wider.

 

Minho jogs into the room and starts rummaging through his closet.

 

“Minho?” Jisung finally decides to say.

 

The boy in question turns around to face him, “Yeah?”

 

“I uh, I brought my own sweatshirt I don’t need one of yours.”

 

Minho shakes his head, “No can do bub, my hoodies are bigger.”

 

Jisung can’t argue with that. Whenever Jisung wasn’t binding, he needed to be wearing a hoodie or large t-shirt, the bigger the better, and he was currently wearing neither. His current shirt was too tight and too sweaty. Jisung gets up quietly while Minho fusses about which hoodie to let him wear, he changes his shirt into something clean after using the bathroom. Jisung slips past Minho and back into bed right before Minho spins around with a flourish and tosses a soft gray hoodie into Jisung’s lap.

 

“An underappreciated favorite,” Minho says as he makes his way back next to Jisung, “You sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

 

Jisung puts on the hoodie, “I just kinda hate everything at the moment. I feel too…” he gestures with his hands while he tries to find the word, “girlish?” He tried his best to stray away from feminine, but as soon as the word left his lips, it sounded so much worse.

 

Minho hums, nodding, “I see, do you want me to get you some water?”

 

“And the heating pad too?”

 

Minho shoots him finger guns and before he leaves the room he presses a kiss to Jisung’s forehead and says, “No matter what your body says, you are you, and you are a boy. I love the boy that you are.”

 

Jisung takes a deep breath and lets Minho’s words sink in. Throughout the year of them dating, they’ve gone through this process before. Not too many times, but he could tell Minho’s learned what to say. Something he hasn’t learned is that he doesn’t need to stay three feet away from Jisung at all times. All trans people’s experiences are different, and Jisung guesses that the general trans population doesn’t want anyone touching them when they’re dysphoric, but Jisung is a very touchy person. He can’t go an hour without holding someone’s hand and/or giving them a hug. He doesn’t think Minho gets that yet.

 

Just then Minho ambles back into the room with the blue heating pad and a large glass of water (Jisung almost misses the two pain pills Minho places onto the bedside table). Jisung smiles at him and reaches his hands out for a hug. Minho accepts but ends up making it a lot more awkward than need be, and he avoids letting his body come in contact with Jisung’s.

 

After the awkward disaster of a hug, Minho says, “Do you want to watch TV or something? Just to get your mind off of-”

 

“Later. Just,” Jisung sighs, “I know you’ve done research and a lot of sources probably say I don’t want physical contact, but that’s literally the opposite of what I want, so can we just cuddle or something for now?”

 

Minho looks a bit surprised, but soon his expression softens, and he holds his arms out, offering Jisung a smile, “I’m down.”

 

Jisung smiles back at him, letting Minho onto the bed and settling in. They sit in comfortable silence for a moment until Minho finally speaks, “Just for the record, I think you’re the handsomest boy to ever exist.”

 

Jisung chuckles, “Thanks, but you don’t need to say that.”

 

“Yes I do, I need you to know that you’re the most beautiful human being I’ve ever seen in my entire life. Even you need that reminder sometimes, though you probably already know it.”

 

Jisung could feel his face start to heat up, “You’re not so bad yourself.”

 

Minho raises an eyebrow, “Oh really?”

 

Jisung nods and cups Minho’s face, placing a quick kiss to his lips, “I love you a lot, okay?”

 

Minho beams, and Jisung can feel himself melt. He could stare at that smile for hours on end.

 

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> aight that's the end girlies im glad i wrote this and i hope you either liked it or learned something either way im happy  
> (the formatting is terrible on this and im so sorry)  
> (also follow me on tumblr @jisquirell if you want more of my bullshit)


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